


Ghostly Rhymes

by Silverlyte



Series: Silverlyte's Sabriel Oneshots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Human Gabriel (Supernatural), Hunter Sam Winchester, M/M, Sam Winchester is Not Amused, gabe is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverlyte/pseuds/Silverlyte
Summary: “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is moaning! Bunked his head and now he’s dead-”“Gabe,” It emerged closer to a whine than the firm disapproval Sam had been aiming for. Another time, he might have been embarrassed by it. Wary, even; Gabriel had a way of latching onto such desperation, as if it made the temptation to push his buttons irresistible.But not tonight. If anyone had a right to whine right then, he decided, it was certainly him.--- Aka : Sam just wants to get this salt and burn over with so he can go home, and Gabriel is Gabriel.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Silverlyte's Sabriel Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005450
Kudos: 44





	Ghostly Rhymes

**Author's Note:**

> ~I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. Do not copy to another site, or translate. ~

**Ghostly Rhymes**

“It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is moaning! Bunked his head and now he’s dead-”  
  


“ _Gabe_ ,” It emerged closer to a whine than the firm disapproval Sam had been aiming for. Another time, he might have been embarrassed by it. Wary, even; Gabriel had a way of latching onto such desperation, as if it made the temptation to push his buttons irresistible.   
  


But not tonight. If anyone had a right to whine right then, he decided, it was certainly _him_.   
  


“Aw, but Samakins! Don’t you want to know how it ends?”   
  


'Samakins' did not want to know how it ended.   
  


All _he_ wanted was to figure out which set of bones belonged to the crabby old man in the attic, ignite them, and go home to the mountain of homework he’d left spewed across the coffee table. If they left soon, and he forfeited any chance of sleep, he might even be able finish it before his six AM lecture.   
  


But Sam also went and made a very grave mistake - he looked up. Pushing wet hair from his eyes, he turned his head to glare-  
  


And was met with the puff of Gabriel’s cheeks, the jut of his lower lip made visible by the flashlight he’d turned up towards his face. Complete with the little furrow of his brows, it was a look he knew too well. Always making an appearance when he was trying to swindle Sam out of the last cookie. Or into spending five more minutes that'd risk turning into hours, in bed with him.   
  


It was a dangerous expression.   
  


One that left him cookie-less far too many times, and running late more often than not.

  
If Gabriel thought it would work on him tonight, though, he was in for a-

  
Gabe's brows scrunched up a little higher, eyes wide and pleading and so very golden in the faux light, and that mouth- 

  
For a split second, his shoulders sagged, scowl softening; Sam caught himself parting his lips, leaning in closer, drawn in by that pout. Hypnotized by it, really. A sailor being lured in by the song of a Siren. 

  
He nearly toppled over, he jerked himself back so quickly. 

  
_No,_ he told himself firmly, he was most certainly _not_ going to give in to that look! Not this time. 

  
Regardless of just how tempting his stupid, pretty mouth was.   
  
  
Or how that stupid face of his left something achingly fond behind in his chest.   
  


Jaw tense, he started to turn back towards his shovel and what he could only hope was the last grave he'd have to dig, and paused. 

  
Gabe's leg hung over the edge of the grave, a bulky, white concoction of garbage bags and packing tape secured around it.   
  


In that moment, he could have sworn he heard it. The _swoosh_ of his resolve going right down the drain.   
  


He was supposed to be _healing._ Gabe. He should have been at home, still in bed, not out here in the pouring rain and darkness while Sam played Where’s Waldo’s skeleton. It hadn’t even been a full three days since he’d broken the leg, and he'd yet adapted to the crutches.

  
Sam had had to carry him this far, the mud and tombstones made it impossible for him to manage on his own.   
  


But Gabriel had been adamant - he wouldn't let Sam go alone and ‘miss out on all the fun’. As if the most exciting thing to happen hadn't been when that bird shot out and nearly gave Sam a heart attack.

  
In truth, a small sliver of Sam had been relieved at the promise of company. Not out of fear of handling the case on his own. No, the ghost seemed particularly attached to the attic and content not to acknowledge them as long as they steered clear of it.   
  
  
It'd just... it'd been a long time since he'd had to do this alone.   
  
  
Before Dean and him had come out here to Stanford, they'd always gone on hunts together. Even now, when the most they looked into was a scattering of hauntings... the idea of being on his own had felt wrong. Isolating. _Lonely_.  
  


He'd still made Gabe sit in the car until he was certain he wouldn't be at any risk out here, in the house's backyard.

  
He hadn't let him leave the house without the plastic bags, either. Sam had worried about his cast getting wet with the recent overcast, and he’d been right to be. The rain had started up shortly after they headed out and it’d only gotten heavier in the following hours.  
  


"Alright," He said, in the tone of a man facing his doom, and angled his body around to face him. “How does it end?”   
  


Gabe’s grin was a vicious thing, baring too much teeth, before he tipped his head back. In a sing-songy tone, to the same melody as the nursery rhyme, declared, “Mwaha ha-ha ha-ha ha.”

  
Nevermind. He didn't feel pity for him at all. If he had to suffer, his tormentor could too.   
  


Glowering at him with all the sourness he could muster, Sam huffed, his breath emerging in a long wisp of white. 

  
Wrapping numbing fingers tighter around the handle of his shovel, he pressed the spade down deeper into the mud. Chucked more dirt into the growing pile to his left.   
  


Opposite of it, Gabriel sighed loudly. “Tough crowd,” There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the rain, and then, cheerfully, “How about ‘Ghost, ghost, go away, we don’t feel like a hunt today?’”   
  


Thunder rumbled overhead.  
  
  
Sam kept his head down. Heavy raindrops clung to his lashes, and drove ice through his clothes and into his veins. It felt as if he'd been shivering for hours, now.

  
Dean beyond owed him.   
  


What kind of idiots moved into a house with a family cemetery behind it, anyways?  
  


“The itsy bitsy ghosty went up the attic steps, then came the Winchester, and burned the bastard’s bones-”  
  


This time, Sam did look up. Frowned. “That doesn’t rhyme.”

  
The pout returned with a huff, Gabe sulking forward to lean his elbows against his thighs, "Well let's hear _your_ ghostly rhymes."

  
Sam opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought for a moment, and then conceded with a shrug, "I can't think of any."  
  
  
"A-HA!" Triumph, Gabriel pointed his finger at him and then himself, "I might make being this awesome look easy, oh moose of mine, but I-"  
  
  
There was that stupid mouth again. This time curling up at the edges, shaping into a smile that was crooked and wonderful, and maybe there was some amount of desperation to shut him up there too but Sam-

  
Sam kissed him.

  
Turned, and reached his hand out to cup the back of his head as he crowded in close against the side of the grave, the start of what promised to be an epic speech about the 'awesomeness that is Gabriel' dissolving into a startled little yelp. 

  
  
\------

  
  
It didn't count as giving in if he wasn't still pouting.... right?


End file.
